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tathrin · 3 days

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I'm working on some Background Timeline Nonsense for my Celebrimbor In The Fellowship AU fic and trying to put together stuff in a way that both makes sense and is fun (and reconciles some of the Unfinished Tales mess). I've already blathered at poor @babybat98 about this, but I figure I might as well subject the rest of you all to it share it here too, in case anyone has Thoughts or Suggestions:

A Timeline of the Lords of the Woodland Elves.

506 F.A. Doriath is sacked (about 30 years before the Third Kinslaying at Sirion).

By 511 F.A., refugees from Gondolin and a few Drúadain joined them there, and by 525 Earendil and Elwing were wed and ruling the Havens of Sirion.

539 F.A., the last of the Fëanorians show-up in Sirion and do their usual silmaril-slaughter, and Elwing jumps off the cliff. The Havens are left in ruins, and Morgoth has control of all Beleriand, blah blah blah.

545 F.A. the Host of the Valar land in Beleriad. The War of Wrath begins.

590 F.A. Morgoth defeated, War of Wrath ends, First Age ends. *Galadriel probably doesn't actually marry Celeborn until now, possibly because of the whole "don't marry during war" thing the Calaquendi tend to do? unclear, because everything involving them is unclear lmao

1 S.A. the Grey Havens are built in Lindon, the only place in Beleriand that really survived the War of Wrath.

By 20 S.A. Galadriel and Celeborn leave Lindon, where Gil-galad is now king (probably crowned because of Galadriel's influence somehow? Unclear, again!). Galadriel and Celeborn go to Eriador and dwell near Lake Nenuial, where they are accounted "the Lord and Lady of the Eldar in Eriador" according to one version of the Unfinished Tales. They have a lot of Noldor, Grey-elves, and Green-elves with them at this time. Now for the fun backstory stuff...what if we say that Celeborn, Oropher, and Amdír were all basically BFFs from their youth in Doriath, and will remain thus for many years before the eventual splintering around 750 S.A.?

So, as of S.A. 10-20 when Galadriel and Celeborn leave Lindon, what if we say that Amdír and Oropher are with them also at this point, and with them their sons? They can be part of the company of mingled Noldor and Iathrim who are mentioned there at Lake Nenuial, with Celeborn (relative of Thingol) and Galadriel (sister of Finrod) as the "highest ranking" of their little quartet, and also the ones (especially Galadriel) who care the most about rank/leadership, and thus fall naturally into that role both in behavior and in the eyes of everyone around them, while Amdír and Oropher are more advisors/etc (maybe they end up in charge of guarding everybody, as the Warriors of the group). Amroth could be as young as 110 right now if he was just a wee little lad when Doriath was destroyed, barely an adult, or at any rate easily less than 200 yet. Perhaps Amdir never made it to Sirion at all, and only rejoined his son after the War of Wrath? (Perhaps Amdir's mom died in the Kinslaying, like Nellglind?) Regardless, Galadriel and/or Celeborn could have been doing most of the looking-after of him during the War either way, and thus we get Amroth as sort of "their kid" like he was in that draft, while not actually being their son which wouldn't make sense. Maybe Celeborn looked after both Amroth and Thranduil while the other adults were involved more in the fighting, given that picturing either Amdir or Oropher NOT fighting if they were still in Beleriand at this point is difficult (albeit not impossible: they could always have gone "fuck this shit, this is a Calaquendi Problem, you deal with it") and Galadriel is The Mighty One while Celeborn is more chill (and because I like not having The Woman be the one doing the child-minding lol). Alternatively, they could have all fought to varying degrees, with young Thranduil the one charged with looking after younger Amroth? idk most of the War of Wrath is pretty hand-wavy even in Tolkien's stuff so this can stay vague lol

At any rate, we pick-up the thread with our next Known(ish) event:

300 S.A. is when Celebrían is probably born. At this point, her parents are presumably still in Eriador. So, we could have them all living together as a little found family unit of survivors at Lake Nenuial, with Amroth and Thranduil acting as sort of older brothers/cousins to Celebrian. Perhaps she has more of a brotherly relationship with Amroth, who is younger, and a little more distance between her and Thranduil, because he's so much older (and lived through the trauma of everything more directly)? He sees himself as the Sensible And Mature One who has to look out for the younger/more naive kids, perhaps? At some point, of course, there must be some kind of a falling-out of some sort between Oropher and Galadriel/Celeborn, because we need to have some reason as the driving factor (combined with the increasing numbers of Dwarves in Moria, which we know Oropher wasn't pleased by; hello Doriath Trauma Round One!) for him to do the whole "moved his people north three times" from the original location of Amon Lanc in order to avoid being near Galadriel and Celeborn in Lórien. Perhaps the falling-out can be traced back to Ost-in-Edhil somehow?

750 S.A. is approximately when Eregion is founded, and construction is begun on Ost-in-Edhil. 750 S.A. is also around when we're told that Oropher and Amdir took up lordship of their respective Silvan lands (although I'm already deviating from those details a bit because fuck colonialism lol; but that's easy enough to do and still claim canon-compliance due to the vagueness of all of this in "canon" anyway, so we'll still use that as the rough date of when the Sindar refugees came to Laurelindórenan/Greenwood, and just say the whole "king" thing in Greenwood happened later and the Noldorian historians never caught the nuances, shhh) So if we extrapolate from all that... What if the falling-out happens because of Eregion? What if Amdir and Oropher are not about to accept an open and friendly relationship with the local Dwarves, after what happened to Thingol and Doriath; and Galadriel, with her foresight and her stubbornness and her Noldorin love of craft (and the fact that her first main trauma was Alqualondë long before the Sindar were scarred by the Battle of a Thousand Caves), refuses to let her Goals™️ be held hostage to their grudges and trauma, and insists that the only way forward for this land is hand-in-hand with the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm. Celeborn reluctantly sides with his wife (even though he loathes dwarves as much as any of them) over his friends, and Amdir and Oropher go off in a huff with those others of the Elves of Eriador who aren't interested in More Noldorin Bullshit, crossing the mountains and joining with the Silvan Elves in the east. So:

750 S.A. Amdir and Oropher leave with a group of followers, while Galadriel and Celeborn found Ost-in-Edhil with Celebrimbor, the two of them being taken as Lord and Lady of Eregion while he's (presumably) just in charge of the smiths for now.

1000 S.A. Sauron, not wanting to start shit with the western elves or Numenorians right not because they're too strong (and presumably just not giving a shit about the little Wood-elves in their forests), beings building Barad-dûr.

1200 S.A. Sauron tries to beguile the Elves of Lindon, and Gil-galad tells him to fuck-off. He tries again in Eregion, and despite Galadriel going "big nope!" the Gwaith-i-Mírdain there welcome him.

1350 S.A. Sauron manages to get Galadriel ousted from Ost-in-Edhil, and Celebrimbor becomes lord of the place. Galadriel and Celebrían leave via Moria, and spend a while in Khazad-dûm with their dwarven friends before making their way eventually to their old friend Amdir and foster-son/brother Amroth in Lórien, where they are welcomed, and Galadriel and Amdir reconcile (possibly enthusiastically, possibly awkwardly) but Celeborn, refusing to step foot in a dwarven kingdom, stays in Eregion, where he is "disregarded" by Celebrimbor. So I like to picture him skulking about as That Grumpy Old Man muttering and scowling at everybody as they pat him on the head and go "there, there grandpa" and whisper apologies to whatever dwarf he's offended today.

1500 S.A. by this time, the Seven and the Nine are made, and Sauron leaves to go make the One Ring in secret in Mordor.

1600 S.A. Sauron makes the One Ring and proclaims himself as Sauron, and ready for war. Celebrimbor goes OH FUCKSHIT and runs through Moria to consult with Galadriel in Lórien. He gives her Nenya, and she convinces him to send the other two to Gil-galad in Lindon, and get them the fuck out of Ost-in-Edhil.

1605 S.A. Sauron's immediate attempt to start said war is potentially delayed by the first two of the Istari, the Blue Wizards, who in a much later draft of Tolkien's actually came to Middle-earth during the Second Age, long before the rest of them, rather than all coming over together. Instead, he had them come over with Glorfindel, and while Glorfindel hung around to help Gil-galad et al they made their way East, to try and save the tribes of Men who had fallen under Morgoth's worship, and to discover where Sauron was hiding, and work against him. I think I want to go with that version, simply because I like the idea of Glorfindel coming back with some of the Istari? But I ALSO like the idea of him having fought in the Last Alliance, which means I need him to come over before Gandalf, Saruman, and Radagast do in the Third Age. So this splits the difference nicely! So, as of 1600: the valar have gone "oh fuck!" and thrown two maia and one reborn elf on a boat and thrown them back to Middle-earth to clean-up the leftovers of the mess left by the War of Wrath when they failed to drag Morgoth's most powerful lieutenant back to face judgement in Valinor OOPSIES, presumably because they figured out that Shit Was Hitting The Fan thanks to the whole One Ring Thing being big enough to be Noticed By The Powers lol Anyway, thanks to Morinehtar and Rómestámo being fucking badass, Sauron's plans for war are delayed several years, and Celebrimbor has time to hide the Three and presumably to warn the Dwarves about the Seven. Ooh, what if we say that he's been spending a lot of this time trying to devise some way of un-linking the Rings from the One Ring? He apparently has the Nine with him when Eregion falls, and Sauron just takes those, but the Seven and the Three aren't there; maybe he was working on the Nine, and knew the Seven were safe in Khazad-dûm where his dwarven smith-friends were doing the same there? And that's why he never tried to destroy them: he was still holding out hope they could be saved, be fixed. That he wouldn't have to destroy the greatest things he ever made, and all the hopes he put into them. He just needed a little more time...

1693 S.A. the War of the Elves and Sauron (finally) begins.

1695 S.A. Sauron slinks through the Gap of Rohan, thus avoiding the Elves in the Greenwood and Lórien, and invades Eriador. Thanks to the Númenóreans having cut down many of the Trees of Minhiriath and Enedwaith, the people in these lands welcomed Sauron's conquest and let him pass without trouble. (Well done, Númenor! Didn't anyone ever teach you deforestation is bad?) Celeborn leads the forces from Eregion (presumably having said "I told you so" to Celebrimbor a few times) and they manage to defeat the first wave of Sauron's army, but are then overwhelmed and forced back to Ost-in-Edhil. Gil-galad hears about this and sends Elrond leading a force from Lindon to help, and also sends messages to Númenor pleading for help. Nobody answers (men, pah!). Elrond's force is too small, and can't break-through to get to Eregion to help.

1697 S.A. Ost-in-Edhil falls. Celebrimbor is tortured into giving up the location of the Seven, but dies without revealing the Three. Sauron, not being an entire idiot, guesses that they're most likely with Galadriel and Gil-galad anyway, but is pissy about being resisted, and turns Celebrimbor into a banner that he carries into battle. Elrond's tiny army is about to be overrun when the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm attack Sauron from the rear, along with the force of elves that Amroth has led through Moria from Lórien, (because whatever Issues™️ his father might have with Dwarves, he's not about to let his foster-father die). This allows Elrond to gather the survivors of Ost-in-Edhil, including presumably Celeborn, and flee. The Dwarves are driven back as well, but they shut the Doors of Moria and Sauron can't get in. Haha, thwarted by Celebrimbor and his previous sweetheart, sucks to be you Sauron! The Doors of Durin are apparently not opened again until the Fellowship of the Ring comes to them (although that doesn't make sense, because Gandalf and Aragorn both passed through Moria at least once before LotR, so they must have been opened at some point; but perhaps the text only means they were not left open again after this point, and is not referring to when/if they were ever opened from inside by someone walking through and out?). The retreating elves found the stronghold of Rivendell, to which many of the survivors of Eregion flee. (Celeborn, presumably, says "I told you so" a lot at this point too, but not often enough for them to murder him.) The rest scatter, some fleeing Middle-earth altogether and some disappearing into the Wild with others fleeing through Khazad-dûm (before the Doors are shut, presumably) thanks to their dwarven friends, and make their way eventually to Lórien, where they join their fellows who left Ost-in-Edhil earlier and merge with the Silvans and Sindar there.

by 1700 S.A. Sauron has overrun all of Eriador except for Rivendell, which is besieged, and Lindon, where Gil-galad is also barely holding him off at the River Lhûn and Mithlond. Finally the Nûmenorian fleet arrives, and kicks Sauron's ass all the way back to Tharbad, although he burns the forests of Minhiriath and Enedwaith as he goes. He gets caught in a pincer between the main force and a smaller one that Ciryatur landed at Gwathló behind him, and barely escaped "with his bodyguard" to Dagorlad. It is unclear at this point if Sauron actually HAS any or all of the Seven, or just knows where they are; sources say that Durin at least was given his Ring by Celebrimbor himself, so perhaps Sauron never actually manages to collect all the Seven at this point? but still has his original influence over them. He does have the Nine, we know, because he gathered them up when he came to Ost-in-Edhil and defeated Celebrimbor on the steps of the House of the Mírdain.

1701 S.A. the first Council is held in Imladris, when Galadriel and Celebrían come looking for Celeborn and meet-up with all the other leaders of the various forces of Elves and Men. They decide to make Rivendell the new elvish stronghold in Eriador, as Eregion is in ruins and remains thus. Gil-galad at this point gives Vilya to Elrond (it's unclear when Cirdan gets Narya, because of course is it; he might already have it, or he might not get it until Gil-galad marches to War in Mordor, although wtf was he thinking leaving Narya behind when he went to war just when he would need its power most? Gil-galad wtf mate???) and declares him his vice-regent. This is also when Elrond and Celebrían meet for the first time. (Presumably at this point her foster-brother Amroth teases her mercilessly about her very obvious crush on Gil-galad's pet peredhel, and she probably smacks the crap out of him for being a jerk.) At some point after this, Galadriel and Celeborn (and Celebrían presumably) leave Rivendell to live near the sea, probably because Galadriel was apparently "striken with sea-longing" the moment she put Nenya on. They go to Belfalas, which will be later called Dol Amroth, and apparently visit Lórien at least twice more before the end of the Second Age, but we don't know anything else about them here.

At this point, there isn't much relevant canon information until the Last Alliance happens, since most of what's going on of import now is happening in Numenor, but let's hit the highlights in case we want to expand on any of this later.

2251 S.A. the Nazgûl appear.

3262 S.A. Sauron taken to Numenor as a prisoner.

3319 S.A. Numenor sunk, Sauron flees back to Middle-earth, and the world is reshaped.

3429 S.A. Sauron seizes Minas Ithil.

3430 S.A. formation of the Last Alliance.

3431 S.A. the Last Alliance marches to Rivendell.

3434 S.A. the march to Mordor, and the Battle of Daglorlad, where Oropher and Amdir both die. Siege of Barad-dûr begins.

3441 S.A. Sauron defeated (for now), war is over. Thranduil and Amdir go home with their scant surviving forces.

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catofadifferentcolor · 9 months

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Terrible Fic Idea #59: Percy Jackson x Lord of the Rings

After my last two terrible fic ideas, I challenged myself to come up with other PJO/HOO/TOA crossovers that shouldn't work but just actually might be onto something. And have I got the least likely - yet somehow not crack - crossover for you yet.

Or: What if Percy Jackson was dumped into the First Age of Middle-Earth?

Just bear with me:

According to the Ainulindalë, Eru Ilúvatar sang Middle-Earth into creation with the Ainur, a subset of which went on to become the Valar and Maiar who are the gods of that world.

But who is to say Middle-Earth is the only world Eru created? Maybe it was his masterpiece and he created a bunch of smaller, less well-planned and well-loved worlds for practice. Maybe some of the Ainur decided they wanted to get in on the world-building action after Middle-Earth was shut off from the rest and created our world as a playground of their own. Who knows? Regardless of details, because of this the Riordanverse exists in the same multiverse as Middle-Earth, with the protogenoi (Gaea, Chaos, Tartarus, &c) being some flavor of Ainur.

Because of this connection, it is possible to travel between one world created by Eru and another - if you have enough Ainur blood and no pressing desire to ensure you survive the journey or will be able to find your way back to your original world.

Just imagine it:

Echoing Son of Neptune, Percy Jackson washes ashore on the coast of Nevrast in Beleriand near Vinyamar in the year 495 of the First Age. He has no memories and carries nothing but the clothes on his back and a grief so heavy it would take the life of an elf.

He encounters Voronwë and Tuor on their way to Gondolin. They travel together for a while, but share no common language and part before they reach the hidden city. The pair name him Airëran, or Sea-Wanderer in Quenya.

Years pass. Percy wanders, spending most of his time alone by (or in) the sea with this grief. He eventually encounters Voronwë again after the Fall of Gondolin (FA 510) who brings him to one of the elvish settlements. By the Destruction of Bereiand (FA 587) many believe him to be blessed by Ulmo as Tuor was, but when the extent of Percy's demigod powers are made clear, they state that he is clearly half-Man, half-Maia, possibly even the son of Ossë himself.

Percy and Voronwë - now called Aerandír and Bronwë respectively after the Sindarin shift - spend most of the Second Age either at sea or in the Grey Havens. They travel farther than even the Númenorians, charting much of the world - but never travel West, in deference to Voronwë/Bronwë's failed voyage before they met. When the war against Sauron begins, they offer what naval assistance they can and fight at Dagorlad in the Last Alliance.

At the start of the Third Age, Percy and Voronwë/Bronwë set out to remap the oceans after the Changing of the World (SA 3319), lightheartedly grumbling about all their previous cartography being undone. Again.

Throughout all of this, Percy remembers nothing of his original life or family. As far as he's concerned, he is Airëran/Aerandír and always has been - except for the overwhelming, nameless grief he carries with him, though he's learned to live with it over the centuries. Snatches come back to him in dreams, but only ever the worst parts, which he actively tries to suppress.

That is, until c. TA 300, when Percy and Voronwë/Bronwë are caught in a great storm at sea. Percy is swept overboard - and encounters Ossë in the deep.

There is some info-dumping - mainly that Percy isn't Ossë's son, but something like his nephew given his ancestry, and that Percy must allow his suppressed memories to return for the good of Middle-Earth - before Percy is allowed to return to a panicked Voronwë/Bronwë.

Over the next thousand years, Percy eventually gains access to most of his memories.

Long story very short, the consequences of holding up the sky and traveling through Tartarus effected Annabeth in a way they never effected Percy, and within two years of becoming a professional architect in the mortal world she was diagnosed with stage-three cancer. She died six months after - and Percy's grief was homeric. He tried all the usual demigod tricks to get her back, but all the doors were shut to him - especially after Poseidon, not willing to have the same thing happen to the son of which he is so proud, gifted Percy with immortality and a position in his court. At this, Percy raged - but even this soon turned back to grief as his mortal family dies in a car accident and his demigod friends are killed by monsters and/or another divine war in which he can do nothing to help. He eventually found a spell that should allow him to go back to the start - but instead of taking Percy back to his fist day at CHB, it took him to the first world Eru created, Middle-Earth.

Most of the Third Age is Percy coming to terms with his past and using what he's learned with the elves all these years to get a handle on his grief.

He and Voronwë/Bronwë do, however, show up to fight at Pelennor Fields (3019 TA), and instead of commandeering the ships with black sails, Aragorn and company arrive to find they've been beaten to the task - and that Percy's fleet carries many Easterlings and Umbarians who'd rather fight against Sauron than for him.

When the Last Ship sails West, Percy and Voronwë/Bronwë join them and continue their adventures in Aman - and it's here that Percy's memories of interfacing with the gods in his first life are important, as Eru is taking more and more umbrage that the creatures he created in his image act like him and create things with their free will and don't always follow his plan. (Think What Song Can Fell the Mountain by CaveDwellers and Rhinocio.) But how that falls out is dealer's choice.

Bonuses include: 1) The slowest of slow burns between Percy and Voronwë, with Voronwë falling in love with Percy by their second meeting and Percy taking the next couple thousand years to realize oh, yes, I'm in love with him, when did that happen? This should be very much an exploration of love not needing physical intimacy to be real, as well as an acknowledgement that the shallow love Voronwë felt at their second meeting is dwarfed by the love he feels for Percy after getting to know him. All of Arda would breathe a sigh of relief when they get together, except most of them think the two have been together since Bereiand and just hadn't gotten around to physical intimacy until late in the game; 2) Random appearances of Maglor throughout the ages on various coastlines across the world - the last being when he joins Percy and Voronwë as they sail to Aman; and 3) Percy gaining a collection of names which should rival any and everyone in Middle-Earth with their size and number. These should be listed at some point for the eager hobbits after the Ring is destroyed and some brief telling of his deeds given, with Percy - and perhaps Voronwë - interjecting things like, so-and-so wasn't actually that impressive or wait, that guy was the king of those people? I thought he was just a jerk.

And that... was surprisingly more detailed than I thought it would be. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you ever do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

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annoyinglandmagazine · 1 year

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Post War of the Last Alliance Elrond

It felt silent, though it wasn’t so. Perhaps it only felt so in contrast to the dread cacophony of screams and the clashing of swords on armour and flesh that had haunted his every waking step for so long he’d been sure that this was all there would ever be. That this was all Arda was an ever would be. But it was not so. Now it was simply still. He was vaguely conscious of soldiers around him picking through the bodies to find their dead, their loved ones. When did something so horrifying become merely expected? He was certain, as he looked over the expanse of armour, blood, trampled banners and funeral pyres before him, that there were more dead than alive. He leaned against his sword as he made his way to where the largest amount of what remained seemed to be gathered.

He was faintly aware of a stab wound in his side as he moved though he found it easy enough to ignore. In fact he could scarcely tell where it was. There was was so much blood. The bitter copper taste filled his mouth and slid all over his armour and every inch of his skin and clothing, he could feel it encrusting a lock of his hair to his forehead and there would not have been any point trying to fix it even if it had been more than a barely conscious thought in his mind. For there was blood slicked over his hands as well. The wounded soldiers parted once they recognised him. And he saw what they were gathered around, though he’d known in his heart as soon as he’d seen them, known since the war had begun, since the day in that tent in a war so similar to this one that it was as if it had never ended when he had first met the person who would change the course of his life he’d known on some level that this is what it would come down to. There was a pyre set up a bigger one than any of the others. And on it laid the remains of the king, recognisable only by his armour.

There were people talking and sobbing all around him but it was as if they were all drowned out by the growing humming in his mind, that was nothing like the music any elf or man was capable of making. It was the making of the world and the destruction of what had came before and he could feel the seismic shift in reality, in Arda itself, the swell and crescendo. But as much as he could feel the world and it’s theme all around him, he saw none of that potential and life before him. His eyes could take nothing in, his presence in this place reduced only to the crown and the blood.

He pulled himself back to the field with a forceful jolt and saw that all the crowd were looking to him, the combined image of so many of their great leaders and legends, bearing their blood and crests. He could not, would not, be the king they wanted. But he nonetheless knew that they needed someone to provide some illusion of control for now. They did not truly need a saviour after all, they’d had plenty of those in ages past, a new age needed new ways of thought, new kinds of heroes. Regardless, all the legends were dead.

Nevertheless he picked up the proffered torch and doused it in the fire. He set the pyre alight. How ironic that it should always come back to fire, where everything was ended and born anew. They had thought they were coming to a new age of peace where they could let go of the flame and lay their weapons down. And yet here they were, and the Second Age ended once again in fire. The smoke filled his lungs, and he should have been in a coughing fit by now but he couldn’t seem to focus on something so real when everything was steeped in symbolism and destruction.

So he stood there in front of the pyre letting the smoke block out his vision and watching the red ember flicker, like a statue that would never be moved, and for a moment he could feel moments and thoughts that weren’t quite his own filling this void he was standing in until he was living every age of the world at once. They were all so similar it hardly mattered whose they were, for they all spoke in the same voice standing in front of their own pyres.

And as he was standing there he felt movement at his side. This shouldn’t have been unusual, and yet it was for, unlike all the other noise on this field his mind could not block that rustle out. He turned and saw silver hair glinting, Celebrian walking to stand at his side. They looked at each other for what felt like centuries and they understood perfectly what the other was thinking, but more importantly what they were not, what could never be made coherent even in their own mind, in anyone’s mind.

They knew there were no words either could use to make sense of all that had happened or the situation they found themselves in so neither tried. He felt the first traces of tears escape his eyes as he finally grasped that this was real, he was here and he knew this because someone else was here with him. Then just as he was trying to mask his inner turmoil to provide an image of reassurance he felt the brush of warm skin against his own.

Slowly he intertwined their fingers, bloody and calloused before the grave of his dearest friend, and yet very much there. Broken, just as he was, but there. And perhaps both not quite broken enough to give up just yet. And so he squeezed her hand in his and felt her squeeze back as the fire roared.

#Silmarillion #Tolkien #lord of the rings #elrond peredhel #eldritch peredhel #angst #Last alliance #second age #third age #gil galad #elrond and celebrian #celebrian #celrond

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ebaeschnbliah · 2 years

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Then all listened while Elrond in his clear voice spoke of Sauron and the Rings of Power ...

... and their forging in the Second Age of the world long ago. A part of his tale was known to some there, but the full tale to none, and many eyes were turned to Elrond in fear and wonder as he told of the Elven-smiths of Eregion and their friendship with Moria, and their eagerness for knowledge, by which Sauron ensnared them.

For in that time he was not yet evil to behold, and they received his aid and grew mighty in craft, whereas he learned all their secrets, and betrayed them, and forged secretly in the Mountain of Fire the One Ring to be their master. But Celebrimbor was aware of him, and hid the Three which he had made; and there was war, and the land was laid waste, and the gate of Moria was shut.

Then through all the years that followed he traced the Ring; but since that history is elsewhere recounted, even as Elrond himself set it down in his books of lore, it is not here recalled. For it is a long tale, full of deeds great and terrible, and briefly though Elrond spoke, the sun rode up the sky, and the morning was passing ere he ceased.

Of Númenor he spoke, its glory and its fall, and the return of the Kings of Men to Middle-earth out of the deeps of the Sea, borne upon the wings of storm. Then Elendil the Tall and his mighty sons, Isildur and Anárion, became great lords; and the North-realm they made in Arnor, and the South-realm in Gondor above the mouths of Anduin. But Sauron of Mordor assailed them, and they made the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and the hosts of Gil-galad and Elendil were mustered in Arnor.

Thereupon Elrond paused a while and sighed. `I remember well the splendour of their banners,' he said. `It recalled to me the glory of the Elder Days and the hosts of Beleriand, so many great princes and captains were assembled. And yet not so many, nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim was broken, and the Elves deemed that evil was ended for ever, and it was not so.'

`You remember?' said Frodo, speaking his thought aloud in his astonishment. `But I thought,' he stammered as Elrond turned towards him, 'I thought that the fall of Gil-galad was a long age ago.'

'So it was indeed,' answered Elrond gravely. `But my memory reaches back even to the Elder Days. Eärendil was my sire, who was born in Gondolin before its fall; and my mother was Elwing, daughter of Dior, son of Lúthien of Doriath. I have seen three ages in the West of the world, and many defeats, and many fruitless victories.

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Council of Elrond

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the council of elrond #jrr tolkien #elrond #elrond's memory #last alliance #elendil #elves #men #dwarves #sauron #the rings of power #three #seven #nine #movie pics #peter jackson

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eglerieth · 10 months

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Been thinking about Elrond and Halbarad, and the role of herald.

In the waning of the Second Age, Elrond had the honor of being herald and banner-bearer to Gil-Galad, last of the Noldorin kings. He bore the flag of the elves in the Battle of the Last Alliance. Afterward, he went on to become one of the greats, a lord of elves (and men) and forge deep connections between peoples.

In the waning of the Third Age, Halbarad had the honor of being herald and banner-bearer to Aragorn Ellessar, first king of the Men of the West in a thousand years. He bore the flag of Gondor and Arnor in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. He died there, and his king went on to forge a new age for Mankind, dominant in a world inherited from Elvenkind. I think this truly shows the differing roles of elves and men, especially at that point in time. The elf lives as a wise, renowned, lord of a waning household rich with history, and the man dies for the cause of a new, prosperous age ruled by those that survive him. Elrond leaves Middle Earth at last shortly after, leaving it in the hands of a descendant of his brother- the two lines of the choices of the peredhil fulfilled at last, through heralds.

#elrond half elven #elrond peredhel #Elrond #halbarad #dunedain #lotr #lord of the rings #Tolkien #last alliance #War of the last alliance #Battle of the pelennor fields #Aragorn #enyuvatar #Heralds #gil galad

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sesamenom · 2 years

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War of the Last Alliance Elrond / Elrond, being part Maiar. [Long post]

I imagine that the Maiar powers through Luthien's line get increasingly diluted with the generations, from Luthien actually shapeshifting, to Elwing learning to grow wings by talking to birds, to Elrond and Elros. Being only 1/16 Maia, their ability can't be as powerful as Melian and Luthien, so:

Presenting part-maiar Elrond. The most constantly visible difference is in his and his brother's hair, shifting in texture and color to match whoever they're closest (emotionally) to. However, he also has a combo move of Luthien Maiar-ness + Tuor blessed-by-the-vala-ness + Finwean Anger Boost Attack = growing wings in battle after Gil-Galad and Elendil's deaths.

Also I decided that the amazon show, of which a name is not deserved, does not exist and that my Last Alliance Elrond is way cooler than the one amazon paid a billion dollars for :)

Guide to his hair significance:

1, Havens of Sirion - Mostly Luthien-blue in his connection with his mother and twin. A golden streak represents the stories Elwing tells them of Earendil and his journeys.

2, Post-Kinslaying - The golden streak fades and the blue and purple tones dull as the twins lose hope in the Feanorian encampment, still grieving their parents' not-quite-deaths and yet to warm up to Maglor and Maedhros.

3, Feanorian encampment - While the golden streak has yet to return, as have the purple tones, Maglor's brilliant blue hair has started to shine through. Elros, the friendlier and more outgoing of the two, was the first to shift to blue-streaked hair. Maglor was the first to comment on Elrond's teenage hairstyle making him look remarkably like Fingolfin.

4, Feanorian encampment - Teens/young adults now, the twins both sport Maglor's bright azure hair glinting off Luthien's darker blues, as well as a solid coppery-red streak. Their hair has become quite wavy in reflection of both Maglor and Maedhros.

5, Feanorian encampment - Elrond switched to a long braid, now intertwined in his father's golden streak. Maedhros couldn't help but notice how he looked so much like Fingon with the golden-twined braid.

6, Lindon - Separated from his foster fathers and his twin brother, Elrond's hair straightens into a style reminiscent of Turgon's in Valinor. The gold, red, and shades of blue all remain prominent, a bold display of his heritage, biological and adopted.

7, Lindon - As he bonds with Gil-Galad (who may or may not be his much elder foster brother?) his hair begins to shift to a silvery color. The red fades quickly as he learns of Maedhros' deeds since they parted ways.

8, Lindon - His hair continues to shift to silver, yet the deep blue, brilliant blue, and gold remain. He braids the gold streak back, and now wears a traditional Sindarin hairpiece (until it gets lost at Eregion).

9, Imladris - After his loss at Eregion, Elrond cuts his hair short. The silvers start to fade, replaced by a more muted blue as he grieves for the kingdom and his adopted older cousin. The red returns as he begins to understand Maedhros' conflict. He dons a golden circlet in replacement of the Sindarin hairpiece.

10, Imladris - His hair grows out once again, and the silver streak remains, coexisting with Elwing's deep blue, Maglor's brighter shades, Earendil's gold, and Maedhros' red.

11, War of the Last Alliance - Summoned as Gil-Galad's herald, he braids back the red streak and briefly adopts a more formal circlet and hairpiece, one of Noldorin craft and fashion, the other in that of the Sindar.

12, Imladris - Following his marriage to Celebrian, his hair begins to shift to bright silver waves to match hers. The five other streaks of his parentage remain.

13, Imladris - Upon the birth of his children, his silver hair darkens and curls slightly to match their hair. The red grows more prominent as Gil-Galad's bluish-silver fades with time.

14, Imladris - After Celebrian departs and their children leave home (whether for orc-hunting or Grandma's house) his hair straightens to match the Sindar scholars he spends his time talking to. The reddish copper has reclaimed a larger space, and Celebrian's silvery white fades almost entirely.

15, Boat to Valinor - The first sign of their nearing Aman is when Elrond's hair starts to curl again, faint Maiarin purple undertones returning with the light of Valinor.

16, Valinor - Reunited with his extensive family tree, Elrond's hair shifts constantly with each new relative he greets. Eventually, it settles in a state of half-straight half-wavy, part silver and part copper, brilliant blue reflections lingering among the deep blue and purple of Elwing and Luthien's hair, and a golden braid shining every time Earendil's star flies overhead.

#silmarillion #silm #elrond #maia elrond #last alliance elrond #last alliance #elf hair

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z-h-i-e · 4 months

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Follow Me

I've been trying to get a story a day up on AO3, and then I've shared the links to here, but tonight's is a short one, so I'm just posting it here directly. This is from 2010, and it's a conversation between Oropher and Thranduil, discussing the Last Alliance, written in poetry.

Said the King to his son, ‘The greatest war hath near begun Take up sword, take up bow Follow me whence I go.’

Said the son to the King, ‘Why bother quarrel for some ring? Safe in tree, safe in cave But battlefields hardly save.’

Said the father to the Prince, ‘I’ve no intention to convince You disagree, I disallow Follow me afield now.’

Said the Prince to his father, ‘I hardly see why I ought bother You wage a war I cannot win O’er Noldor pride, and Noldor sin.’

Said Oropher to Thranduil, ‘Listen my son, and listen well War is upon us, war will come here If we turn blind eye and cower in fear.’

Said the father to his son, ‘You are my heir, my only one Follow me and follow through If I should fall, they must follow you.’

#oropher #thranduil #poetry #last alliance

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spiraliastatica2 · 7 months

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This "spiral" (and "loopy") world" is a "color desert" of "solitude"...

youtube

#Mon univers musical hors Muse #Last Alliance #Youtube

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thranduilofsmirkwood · 1 year

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ELROND MEMES

HUGO WEAVING

LORD OF THE RINGS MEMES

THE HOBBIT MEMES

REBEL CIRCUS

Hot AF Elrond

#Elrond #Hugo Weaving #The Hobbit #Lord of the Rings #Rivendell #Last Alliance #My Edits #Rebel Circus

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elerondo · 2 years

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When Gil-galad fell in the War of the Last Alliance, it was there and then that Elrond became the Lord of Eriador. He was, in all essence, the last of his line. The High King was no more, his backup was no more. There was no one else in all of Arda who would look out for him, because none of them would ever cherish him enough, and he tires of letting anyone else know him so truly and so much.

He did not mourn Gil-galad for a long time. He could not. Elendil was gone, and Isildur was deemed unfit in his eyes. Elrond had to settle the hosts in Gondor, give instructions to the healers, refute petitions of him taking the throne, convene with Durin’s Folk, send his kin home to Rivendell, coordinate with Mithlond to send more of his kin off to the West. Only then did he finally settle down and marvel at how much he did all by himself for he could not believe it. Things were surreal. There were tears, yes, but there was no wailing. His grief was logical and systematic. He thought and acted like a King in suffering times, the last line of defense who couldn’t and shouldn’t be affected by emotions in order to facilitate a smooth post-war process.

And that marked his last duty to Ereinion Gil-galad. From there on out, Elrond no longer wanted to do things because it was his duty, or because it was what Gil-galad decreed, or what Gil-galad would have wanted. Elrond was no longer a second choice. He was the only choice now, and there was no one to make proud, only himself.

So Elrond slowed down his pace. He focused on building Imladris part by part, cottages here, towers there, and minimised the clutter of the arenas and barracks, but catering to the different mix of culture was ever on the forefront of his mind. Thus, Imladris was an ordered, artistic, non symmetrical state. He sat with the people, being quiet and a listener, because it comforted him to be near another and feel their life about them, after having lost so much. He was no longer the warrior, the Prince, the Herald. He was the comely Lord who laughed with his people and ate with them, sang with them and serenaded their children, and was present all the time to respond to their requests. He began to make and give gifts again, falling into the old familiar ways of the forge. He also delegated his military power, but the fire in his bones ever made him responsive to the call to arms.

One would be right to say that he became full grown into the child who was at Sirion, with all the prowess of the Noldor tucked behind a smile.

#tolkien's legendarium #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #lotr #elrond #war of the last alliance #last alliance #imladris #rivendell

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underpaidimmortal · 8 months

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youtube

HI HI HI EVERYNYAN I MADE A COVER OF OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB'S ENDING !! THIS IS MY VOICE WOAGH !! AND MY GUITAR !!

#ouran high school host club #song covers #anime ending #scribblz #last alliance #Youtube

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tathrin · 9 months

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Hi! Can you talk about the 'Thranduil: A Crown of Silver and Blood' WIP, please?

Certainly! Thank you. So it's actually the same concept that @babybat98 talked about in their post here, about Thranduil being crowned during the Last Alliance after Oropher's doomed charge, and I only have a little bit more of mine than they do of theirs but I'll give you what I have got so far:

Thranduil had never been meant to be a king.

He knelt on the battlefield, knees stained with blood and mud, and oh! how his heart longed for his forest. How his heart longed for his fathers. The first lost so many years ago in the ruin of Doriath and mourned forever; the second a grief too new and raw to yet be understood. None of them had ever been meant to be kings.

Greenwood had had no king when Thranduil and his father arrived with a handful of refugees from Doriath; kings and lords and court were not things the Silvan elves who lived in that great forest had ever bothered to establish. They needed no kings, no lords. They lived a simpler, purer elven life; free of the influence of the Valar and their wars. But war had come to all of Middle-earth, and the Greenwood had chosen to stand with their distant brethren against the Shadow.

Their Sindar asylees had warned their Silvan fellows, when they prepared to march off and join the war, that without a king the High Elves and the Gondorians would look down on the people of the Greenwood; and so they had crowned one, and sent Oropher before the lords of Elves and Men to stand for the woods and the Wood-elves. Lórien had added their banner and force to the Greenwood, rather than pledging allegiance to Gil-galad; the Wood-elves of neither forest were keen to bend the knee to a Noldor. They would fight with them, and with the Men who stood beside them; they would not be ruled by either.

And thus they had chosen a king, so that the noble lords of the Alliance would not discount the Wood-elves' strength, their value and their valor; so that they would look on them not as an uncivilized rabble to be commanded, but rather as equals to respect and fight beside.

Still they had not been seen as equals; still they had been left to fight alone.

And now their king was dead, and so many of their people that Thranduil could not yet bear to count them. Oropher and Amdír both were dead, and more than half their people with them. His fathers were both dead now, and Thranduil knelt in the mud, orphaned and alone.

Tiraran stood before him, his face impassive and his eyes streaming with hurt. He held the thin crown of Greenwood in his one good hand; the other, rotting from both orc-poison and the Black Breath of the Nazgûl he had so bravely stood against, was bound tight against his chest.

It was that wound that had spared him from the dreadful charge across the Dagorlad, that wound which had saved his life when so many of his kin had perished; confined to the Healing Tents, he had not been allowed to join his friend and kin upon that killing field. He should have been there still, but he was as stubborn as any elf of Greenwood; he had demanded to be brought to the field, and he stood now on shaking legs before his dear, dead friend's son and offered him their simple silver crown.

Talk about how that wound is what kept Tirarn from the battle; what kept him alive, when almost all the forces of Greenwood and Lórien alike now lay dead upon this killing field, slain by Sauron's dark minions and by the pride of their allies who proclaimed themselves the leaders of his ill-begotten Alliance. Thranduil knows that Tiraran, too, is wondering if things would have been different if he had not been lying in the Houses of Healing—where he should be, still; but he bade himself be carried to the battlefield for this, and stood now upon trembling legs to crown his king, his dear dead friend's son. If he had been there at the side of Oropher and [LÓRIEN DUDE], would it have made a difference? Would his quiet sense and patience have been enough to quench the blaze of Sindar pride in the face of Noldor ego? Would he have been able to keep his own patience, and argue against the charge? Would he have been able to talk them out of it? If he had been beside his friend, would all those Wood-elves yet live?

Thranduil bowed his head and Tiraran placed the crown upon his head.

It was a thin band of braided silver, three pale moonstones across the brow; three white gems, his father had laughed when he had had it made, to mock the Noldor who had brought this war to them and were too proud to accept the fault of it. The bitter looks of the High Elves who saw the crown, and understood the dark jest behind its design, had set a grim smile on Oropher's face as he walked among them.

But Oropher would walk no more, and now the crown rested on Thranduil's head. It sat there like a brand, burning; he almost fancied that he could smell the smoke of its deadly touch upon his hair, but that was fanciful illusion. The crown did not scorch him, for all that it seemed it should; and here in Mordor, there was naught to smell but blood and the filth of the great Shadow.

Thranduil rose. The crown was light, a thin band; pretty enough in its design, but cheap and plain; hardly a crown by the standards of the Noldor. Thranduil lifted his head. He would bear it proudly nonetheless.

The crown was heavy; it seemed to press him deep into the mud. The crown was heavy, like the unbearable weight of grief; heavy, like his breaking heart.

. . . .

Upon returning to Greenwood, Thranduil will throw the crown away, never wanting to wear the horrible thing again. He is no longer a king; Greenwood no longer needs a king, so neither he nor his forest have need any longer for the torture of a crown.

When Tarlas gently points out, later, that he's going to need a crown if he's going to act as king for them in matters dealing with the wider world, Thranduil will snarl and refuse to ever touch the thing again. He is a Wood-elf king of a Woodland realm, is he not? Then let him crown himself with leaves and flowers; let him crown himself with his own forest, if he is to be the king of it.

Children—for there were many children born in the years of light after Sauron's fall, and the much-diminished trees rang, briefly, with the silver song of their laughter; Rilaerloth has many friends, when she is young, although she is one of the eldest of them and accepts the role of leader in a big sisterly fashion, just as her father finds himself quickly deemed father to the whole forest. Children braid him flower crowns out of joy, after they see him wearing them when he returns from or finishes speaking with some outside ambassador; it becomes a favorite pastime of the children, and they compete with one another to craft the best, and even make a game of trying to snatch away the crown someone else gave him so that he will wear theirs instead. Thranduil laughs at this, and is glad of it, and ignores the sidelong looks of outsiders at both the game and the lack of jewels and finery upon his brow.. He is a woodland king; the woodland, thus, shall be his crown.

And the children are so happy.

#thranduil #mirkwood #greenwood #last alliance #lotr fanfiction #tiraran #lotr #my writing #my stuff #ask meme #wip weekend #rilaerloth

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fly-to-rainbow-ray · 1 year

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LAST ALLIANCE - Keep on smashing blue,

#My palettes #Musical palettes #Palettes #LAST ALLIANCE

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annoyinglandmagazine · 1 year

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Elrond and Gil Galad angst

‘My king,’ and Gil Galad felt his heart grow lighter in his chest yet ache with an inexplicable pain as a very familiar figure came into his line of sight. The army, men and elves alike parted before the two of them. Elrond greeted him with a much lower bow than was necessary, considering the great portion of the army that answered directly to him rather than Gil Galad himself. Ereinion gestured for him to walk by his side as he inspected the ranks.

Elrond took his place by his side and began to speak in that clear melodic way of his, ‘The east regiment is ready, they await on your orders.’ And for a moment it was almost like it was for so many centuries, so many millennia, but it was not quite. If they had been in Lindon Elrond would not simply be walking in measured steps like the soldier he had been in most every way since far too early in his life. He would have been balancing on some tree branch or wall and spinning around on the tips of his toes with his arms extended while humming snatches of things that weren’t quite songs to himself. He’d never seemed quite solid, moving from one place to another so quickly you lost sight of him, like smoke or the spray of sea foam at the prow of a ship.

Now he looked like a soldier, no more than that, no matter how fervently he’d deny it, he looked like a king. And that made Gil Galad more devastated than ever but still more sure that he was making the right decision. If Elrond, who had already suffered so much and was still so visibly changed from the events of Eregion, was still standing here before him now he was more than strong enough to continue without him. And more crucially he looked at his closest friend and knew that he never wanted another to suffer the way he had. He didn’t want anyone else to ever have to be this strong and he knew Elrond wouldn’t either.

‘I’m ready. We ride at dawn.’ He then took a deep breath and felt every inch of all his years at last. They say Valinor’s peaceful. Peace. He supposed he’d never really known what it was really, simply living off borrowed time ever since that crown’s cold weight had settled on his head. ‘I had something I wanted to give you,’ he slowly removed the necklace that had rested around his neck beneath his robes even longer than that crown. He held it in his palm, a simple iron pendant.

‘It’s the emblem of the house of Fingolfin. I promise it’s not some trick to try and make you king or something-’ he broke off with something he tried to pass as a laugh but was really a lot closer to a sob. Elrond looked up at him with sad eyes that had seen too much, and whispered ‘Why are you giving this to me?’ though Gil Galad suspected he already knew.

‘It is the last thing I have of my father, I have no memories of him. I have no wife, no children, nor siblings but I have you. You are the closest thing to family I have on this shores, you always have been and I want you to have this.’ He clasped the small pale hand in his own and laid the pendant in it, closing Elrond’s fingers around it while not breaking eye contact.

‘Elrond listen to me,’ he said softly while reaching his thumb up to brush a tear away from his cheek, ‘Please live. Please be happy. You deserve to be happy, don’t spend your life mourning those who you’ve lost celebrate those who you still have. You will never be alone, you’re too kind to ever not have people who love you or for anyone to ever stop doing so.’

Elrond leaned up and pressed their foreheads together and his eyes closed slowly as he finally began to weep. They withdrew after what felt like an eternity and Gil Galad shakily fastened the clasp around the pendant around Elrond’s neck. In normal circumstances he would have laughed at the sight of a Nolofinwean emblem on Sindarin style armour bearing the crests of various houses of men, by someone wearing Telerin colours, Feanorian braids, holding a Feanorian sword, and marching under Numenorean banners.

As it was he merely smirked at Elrond’s choice of attire and weaponry, ‘Felt like inducing a fifth kinslaying today?’ Elrond laughed through his tears ‘I thought it was a good show of unity. No scratch that, I just wanted to see people’s faces and maybe make Feanor turn in his grave.’ They smiled for a moment and the fate looming over them was almost forgotten. ‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to see your wedding. I’d have liked to be there for you.’ That was the last time they ever saw each other on this side of the sea.

#silmarillion #tolkien #elrond peredhel #elrond and gil galad #gil galad #Last alliance

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